


The Ends and the Means

by kay_obsessive



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Low Chaos (Dishonored), Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-12 00:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_obsessive/pseuds/kay_obsessive
Summary: The members of the Loyalist Conspiracy consider the problem of Corvo.





	The Ends and the Means

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StopTalkingAtMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopTalkingAtMe/gifts).

Havelock greeted Martin with a warm handshake and a clap on the back when he finally limped his way into the Hound Pits the next morning, like they were old friends rather than a pair of cagey co-conspirators who had by now exchanged far more words through cryptic letters than they ever had face-to-face. “Good to see you made it out in one piece,” he said, gesturing Martin toward one of the seats by the bar. “Corvo told us you were in rough shape when he found you.”

“Yes, which is why I offered to make my own way here instead of slowing him down in his work.” Martin sat gratefully and took a moment to rub at his wrists, which were starting to itch and ache now that they had a chance to begin healing. “Of course, if I’d known he’d be quite that much quicker than me, I might have just waited around for the escort.”

Havelock grinned. “Impressive, isn’t he? Worth all that trouble and planning it took to break him out of Coldridge.”

The trouble, the planning, and the pain, he hoped, rubbing gingerly at his neck this time. “He certainly has the talent you promised. Not every man could manage to break out of prison and then break into the High Overseer’s office just a few days later. But I do still wonder if he has the fortitude to do all we require. He seemed to be making his way through with a rather gentle touch from what little I saw.” He remembered Corvo approaching Jasper from behind in deadly silence, only to lock his arm around the man’s neck and then lower him carefully to the ground. Effective, certainly, but not quite the assassin’s strike he was expecting.

“You haven’t heard the details yet?” Havelock asked, if possible looking even more pleased with himself. He gave a nod before Martin could respond. “Makes sense. I imagine they’re keeping it quiet until they decide how they want to explain it publicly. Campbell’s been marked with the Heretic’s Brand. No one in the Abbey seems to know why or how, but he’s been stripped of all his authority nonetheless. No blade could have made a cleaner cut.”

Martin straightened up sharply. “That’s… brilliant,” he said with a frown. It also was not the plan, not anything they’d even remotely discussed as a possibility.

The meaning of the Heretic’s Brand was well known even among outsiders to the Abbey. It had to be, to serve its purpose, to ensure that those who earned such a mark were thoroughly cast out from every level of society as befitting their heinous crimes. All details surrounding its use, however, were a much more closely held set of secrets. To even consider using it in such a way, let alone figuring out where it was kept and how to appropriately apply it all in the span of a few hours, all without once being detected…

Martin had never himself met the Royal Protector before the previous night. The government and the Abbey had long been on tense terms with each other, cooperation balanced on a knife’s edge of grit-teeth tolerance, and he had never held a rank or level of trust from his superiors to merit a place during one of their rare audiences with the Empress.

He had heard the same rumors as everyone else, though. Corvo Attano was strong and skilled, quick and fierce, undyingly loyal to Empress Jessamine and her daughter.

No one had ever mentioned he was clever.

Havelock liked to talk up how they were all equals in this venture, united by their common cause over any other ranks or titles. But they all knew that truly only referred to themselves and Pendleton. Corvo was a step above the servants, vital as he was in all this, but he was still a tool to be used, one of many weapons needed to fight this war.

The traits they had wanted from a weapon could be very dangerous in a clever man.

* * *

It took a great deal of wine to get Pendleton to the point of being able to sit up tall at the table with Havelock and Martin and say the words “my brothers need to die” with no hesitation or stab of guilt to his gut. It took a few swigs of something a tad stronger to be able to say those words to Corvo, standing ready with his weapons and hideous mask in hand, and instruct him on how best to see it done.

That sight tangled with the drink to trip up his tongue as he tried to make his reasons clear, though, sending him rambling and stumbling through endless justifications until Corvo stopped him by reaching out and gently gripping his arm. “I understand,” he said with a slow nod and solemn expression.

Pendleton quieted immediately. He felt small and silly, like a child grappling for an excuse to explain away some obvious misdeed.

He and Corvo were of an age, but something about that hand on his shoulder, heavy and warm, that low voice and reassuring nod, had Pendleton thrown right back into his earliest days. Those rare moments here and there when someone noticed him in the shadow of his brothers’ cruelty and offered him kindness, sympathy, acceptance. It was a gesture that was almost...

Well, he’d never put much stock in the rumors around Lady Emily’s parentage before, but suddenly he wondered.

Corvo gave his arm another light squeeze, then turned and walked swiftly toward Samuel and his waiting boat, hand resting ready on his sword. 

Pendleton went back inside to his drink.

It was some time before word came to him, vague and distorted through his half-broken chain of remaining contacts, of what truly happened to remove the Pendleton twins from their place of power. And despite it all, before anything else, he felt relief. His brothers, his horrible, wretched brothers, were still alive. 

Then he considered what it all meant. Corvo had ignored their careful plans and found a different solution to their problem yet again. He was becoming a surprisingly non-lethal, though no less effective, assassin. Was it mercy? Vengeance? Either answer was troubling in its own way.

Pendleton set aside the brief report on his brothers’ fates, walked to the grimy window of his disgusting Hound Pits room and carefully pushed it open. He could see Corvo out on the grounds, playing some game with Lady Emily in the few short hours he had before the sun began setting and they sent him out on another deadly task. It was an odd sight, and he wondered again about those old rumors.

They had prepared, to some extent, for how best to deal with Corvo’s well-known loyalty to the crown. They were going to be asking a lot of him by the time this was done, but as long as they could assure him it was all in the Empire’s best interests, it was nothing to be concerned about. Someone in Corvo’s position had to be quite used to following such orders, after all.

But Corvo was proving less controllable than expected, and family loyalty was a different beast entirely, unpredictable and unreasonable. 

Pendleton knew that better than anyone.

* * *

Damn the man, but he could have done it quietly.

Barely more than a sentence out of Corvo between each job and the whole city chasing a ghost that hardly anyone had so much as glimpsed, but he chose to take the Lord Regent down in the most public way possible.

Havelock could understand the logic of it. Truly, he could. Proving how entirely illegitimate Burrows’ rule had been from the start would only serve to further the true legitimacy of Emily’s claim and make her ascension that much smoother.

But they could have done it quietly, later.

The three of them, the center of their great conspiracy, sat together in silence within the pub, trading uneasy glances as Burrows’ confession was played and replayed over the loudspeakers, announcing his crimes to every still-living citizen who remained in Dunwall. Outside, the servants celebrated.

It was Havelock who finally spoke first, coughing into his hand and clearing his throat and saying, “We always worried if Corvo might be dangerous…”

And the others nodded solemnly, though they all knew this was not the kind of danger they had once anticipated. They had feared a man whose mind had shattered in prison, a man unhinged who might someday turn the blade they’d gifted him against them. Not whatever end they were rapidly hurtling towards now.

Burrows’ echoing voice stuttered as the recording began again, and Pendleton and Martin shared a silent look before turning back to Havelock. “We’ve been… discussing what we might do about it,” Pendleton began after a moment. “I’ve moved some funds around to certain parties and managed to acquire an amount of a strong poison that should, well, take care of the problem.”

“Yes,” Martin continued. “This is probably the best time for it. Corvo has done all we needed him to do, and he’ll be off his guard after such a success. If we’re going to take care of our loose ends here, we should do it now.”

Havelock stared at them a moment too long. “You’ve… put this together quickly,” he remarked, some unknown, uneasy feeling creeping slowly into the back of his mind.

“We’ve been ready to act for some time,” Pendleton said, sounding almost smug. “As you said, we always knew Corvo might become more of a liability than an asset as we neared our goals. The way he handled this last task just proves how right we were to worry.”

Havelock shook his head quickly. “Yes, of course. It was wise of you both to think ahead. After all, we won’t have much time to dwell on plans now that Burrows is out of the picture. We must act quickly from here on out.”

And when the poison did its work and they watched Corvo stumble and stagger and eventually succumb, Havelock let that uneasiness drift to the forefront. It wasn’t guilt, he realized quickly enough. He had no reason to feel that. This was all completely justified, the most sensible course of action considering the position Corvo had put them in.

No, what it was was a warning, the same uneasiness that had niggled at his mind when they all began this venture together. Even a conspiracy of a few was too large, too dangerous. They had ended Corvo because he knew too much and had decided all the citizens of Dunwall needed to share in that knowledge. They would cut down the servants as well, because they had heard it all and cheered at what they learned.

But Martin and Pendleton knew more than even Corvo, had gone against plans and acted alone just as he had.

What knowledge might they decide to share, with the power of an empire at stake?

Havelock was also prepared to act.


End file.
